


We Bid You Adiou

by LizaGreen



Series: Give me a kiss, Stab me in the Back [5]
Category: Hazbin Hotel (Web Series)
Genre: Alastor Backstory (Hazbin Hotel), Alastor Has a Heart (Hazbin Hotel), Alastor is Bad at Feelings (Hazbin Hotel), Alastor is in Hell for a Reason (Hazbin Hotel), Albert is back!, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, And in need of a drink to deal with everything, Asexual Alastor (Hazbin Hotel), Asexual Character, Charlie is a cinnamon roll, Everyone wants to protect her, F/F, Husk is So Done (Hazbin Hotel), Original Character(s), Protective Alastor (Hazbin Hotel), Protective Vaggie (Hazbin Hotel), Roxanne is a bitch, Smart Angel Dust (Hazbin Hotel), but it is buried very deep
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-05
Updated: 2020-06-05
Packaged: 2021-03-03 18:53:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,302
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24560362
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LizaGreen/pseuds/LizaGreen
Summary: It wasn’t that Vaggie hated men per say- it was more she didn’t trust their motivations. Too long had men drooled over her in life, that trusting them in Hell was near impossible. Her senses didn’t scream at Angel Dust, but that might be because he was far more interested in men than her, but all others made her skin crawl. It didn’t help that the eyes followed her everywhere.So, when Maurice arrived at the Hotel, mere weeks after Roxanne, she was surprised that her senses seemed dull to the man.
Relationships: Alastor & Original Characters, Alastor & Vaggie (Hazbin Hotel), Charlie Magne/Vaggie
Series: Give me a kiss, Stab me in the Back [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1677907
Comments: 5
Kudos: 48





	We Bid You Adiou

It wasn’t that Vaggie hated men per say- it was more she didn’t trust their motivations. Too long had men drooled over her in life, that trusting them in Hell was near impossible. Her senses didn’t scream at Angel Dust, but that might be because he was far more interested in men than her, but all others made her skin crawl. It didn’t help that the eyes followed her everywhere. 

So, when Maurice arrived at the Hotel, mere weeks after Roxanne, she was surprised that her senses seemed dull to the man. His eyes didn’t constantly follow her around the room, he made no advances on her, and occasionally in his more sober moments, he was pleasant company. The man loved to play the piano, and sometimes one could catch him playing slow, sombre tunes on it in the afternoon after Charlie or Husk had cut him off. Vaggie tried to console him as best she could- she could sympathise with someone who had committed suicide and ended up here. 

It was still surprising either way. 

Charlie barely seemed to notice the demon, too busy running the Hotel, worrying about Alastor and whatever he might be up to and keeping a watchful eye on Roxanne and any of her potential tricks. Vaggie, too, had been watching the woman, untrusting of her motivations, especially after learning that she had married the insane Radio Demon in life. Either way, she divided her time between Vaggie and Maurice, keeping the two separate safe zones in secret. It was nice, having another place to go when Charlie was too busy, that she didn’t have to worry about the eyes. 

And then, Charlie got _curious._ Vaggie loved her, so much, but sometimes her girlfriend could be a little too much. She wasn’t sure what had set off her curiosity in the demon- Angel mentioned an incident at the bar- but suddenly, she was around Maurice all the time, asking the man questions, coaxing him to open up and talking about steps towards redemption. Maurice, in turn, simply downed more alcohol in an attempt to drown his sorrows. Eventually, Vaggie got sick of it. 

“Charlie,” she snapped after her partner had grilled the poor man for near an hour, “I think that’s enough.” Charlie blinked, surprised at her tone. 

“I just want to help,” she said. “We’re looking for redemption here, not to enable anyone.” 

“I know,” Vaggie said, forcing herself to be calm. She knew Charlie wasn’t being intrusive on purpose- she just didn’t know when to quit, when someone might need some time alone. “It’s just...” She paused and glanced towards Maurice who was staring morosely into his bottle of whisky. “Can we talk for a moment? In private?” Charlie nodded slowly, allowing Vaggie to draw her away from the man and into a corner of the room. Maurice barely noticed them leaving. 

“What is it Vaggie?” Charlie asked, curious. 

“It’s just... you barely noticed Maurice for weeks. He’s been here three months now and never taken so much interest before. What happened?” 

“He has?” Charlie looked startled at the knowledge. “I... I didn’t realise.” She bit her lip, looking troubled. “I didn’t mean to be pushy. It’s just... Husk left him with me and Angel the other week when he got too drunk at the bar and Alastor came along and took him back to his room, but I don’t know why and-” 

“Alastor took him back to his room?” Vaggie interrupted, alarmed. “You asked him to?” 

“No,” Charlie said, shaking her head. “I didn’t even know he was listening. Maurice was talking about someone named Anna and something being his fault at the time and I wanted him to open up, but then Al was suddenly there...” She trailed off, looking confused. “I just thought maybe he might want to talk about it.” 

Vaggie bit her lip. She honestly could not say she knew much about Maurice or what he had been like in life, but she _had_ heard the name Anna from him before, usually mixed in with phrases like “brought back life to poor Evelyn,” and “never seen him so happy except with Anne-Marie.” She didn’t know who either woman was, nor Anna herself, but it seemed clear that _Alastor_ did, which was weird. And if Alastor did... 

“You think he knows something about Roxanne,” she said aloud, finishing the thought. Charlie looked guilty. 

“I shouldn’t have bothered him,” Charlie murmured, looking at her feet. “It’s just that, she’s _still_ here and it seems to be getting on Al’s nerves.” Vaggie sighed, massaging her temples. 

The problem was Charlie was right. Outwardly, there was no physical change to the Radio Demon. He still gave everyone that creepy grin, still got all up in your personal space but got pissy if you did the same, still treated Roxanne as if she had the plague. But there was a quiet change in his moods. Lately, he had been far more irritable, less patient with her than he had all those months ago and many of their conversations seemed to have a subtle hint regarding her leaving. He was more likely to snap at someone and devour them nowadays than he had with the Happy Hotel’s opening. If they didn’t do something soon, Lilith might actually bestir herself and smite the pair out of Hell entirely and, loathe as she was to admit it, Alastor was all that stood between then Hotel and total failure. It would not be nearly so popular if he hadn’t endorsed it, nor would they be able to help so many of Angel’s acquaintances from the studio without major backlash from Valentino. Try as she might, Vaggie could think of no other way that the Hotel could sustain itself without Alastor. Which meant they had no other choice. 

Roxanne had to go. 

“I know,” Vaggie said, tucking the loose lock of blonde hair behind Charlie’s ear. “Let me talk to him.” At Charlie’s supicious look, she held up both hands with a placating smile. “I promise, it will be just a talk.” _As much as I’ll have to choke out the words to do so,_ she added in her head, disgust curling in her stomach. _So much for the use of my safe space today._

But she would do anything for Charlie, and if she had to suck up to the insane demon, she was willing to do so. She’d even make a deal with him, if it would put her girlfriend’s fears to rest. 

Charlie gave her a smile in return, gripping her hands and squeezing them. 

“Thank you, Vaggie,” she said softly, stepping forward to give her a kiss. Vaggie pulled her closer to deepen it, enjoying the proximity. _Something to hold onto, in that creep’s presence._ Eventually, Charlie pulled away, breathless. “I mean it. And I promise, I’ll stop digging with Maurice.” Vaggie smiled and dove in for one last quick kiss. 

“Ask him about Anne-Marie. He’ll be talking for hours.” 

* * *

It took her and embarrassingly long hour to find Alastor, as she forgot to check the kitchens first. Vaggie had taken to avoiding them since his arrival, knowing it was a favourite haunt of his and so, it hadn’t occurred to her to look there first. She cursed herself internally, even as the divine smell of Crawfish Ettoufee wafted out as she pushed the kitchen door open. Inside, Alastor was busy humming to himself, soft jazz accompanying him as background noise, jacket discarded and shirt-sleeves rolled up to his forearms as he washed dishes. She was surprised to see a small deer tail peeking out from his trousers, swaying with his hips. 

“And what can I do for you, my dear Vagatha?” Alastor called, not even looking over his shoulder. A grinning shadow leered at her from the ceiling and her skin crawled. She ignored it as best she could, taking a deep breath and stepping into the kitchen properly. 

“Why is Roxanne still here?” she snapped, the words coming out harsher than she meant them to. She had promised Charlie it would be a talk, not an interrogation, but that shadow... it slithered closer and she hugged herself closely, shying away from it instinctively. “It’s January now.” The jazz continued, although there was now an undercurrent of static. Alastor turned, pulling a tea-towel out of a drawer and flicking water at the shadow slinking its way over to her. It squealed as droplets fell on it. 

“Off with you,” Alastor chided it, as if it were a misbehaving child. “The poor doll doesn’t need your attention.” The shadow disappeared, much to Vaggie’s surprise. She narrowed her eyes, wary. 

“Why did you do that?” she asked suspiciously. She and Alastor had never gotten along, merely condoned each other’s presence for Charlie’s sake. The Radio Demon seemed to have an odd soft spot for her, although why that was, Vaggie had no idea but was silently grateful for it all the same. Charlie’s dream would have long ago gone up in smoke if it wasn’t for him, although that didn’t mean she had to like the man. Alastor waved off her concern. 

“Roxanne is incapable of dealing with her own problems, so she likes to bring them to me to solve, as her husband,” Alastor said, only answering one of her questions. “Unfortunately, no matter how many times I throw old Mrs Spencer back to the ninth circle, she never seems to catch the message.” Vaggie frowned, not sure what he was talking about. 

“And we’ve been dragged into this why?” she asked, taking a step back as Alastor shuffled around the kitchen, fiddling with the bubbling pans on the stove. Niffty was nowhere in sight. 

“Not at all, my dear!” Alastor stated, despite the growing static warning her that this was not a topic of conversation he liked. “It will be solved soon, and Roxanne will be gone before you know it!” 

“I want her gone now,” Vaggie said firmly. “Charlie’s worried.” There was a scratch in the static and the jazz stopped abruptly. The kitchen suddenly felt smaller than ever, as if all the air had just been sucked out. 

“What did she do?” Vaggie jumped, startled, inadvertently summoning her spear. She had never heard Alastor’s voice without it’s background track, nor the deadly flat tone he had just used. There was even a faint inflection of an accent in there. 

“Charlie did nothing,” Vaggie denied, hackles rising. Alastor turned, eyes blazing with fury despite the smile. 

“Not her. Roxanne. You said that our charming demon belle was worried.” Vaggie blinked, taken aback. Alastor took a threatening step forward, the world warping around them in response to his anger. “She didn’t break our deal, did she?” 

“I don’t know about your deal, but she hasn’t done anything to Charlie,” Vaggie said as firmly as she could, gripping her spear tighter. She would not show her fear to this man. “It’s _you_ she’s worried about, and the effect Roxanne being here has on you!” She was shouting at the end, hiding her terror in anger. Alastor paused, the kitchen slowly returning itself back to normal, or as normal as one got in Hell. 

“Good.” Abruptly, the jazz suddenly flared back to life and Alastor leaned back, all trace of fury gone from his face. “Such a dear, for her to worry so, but fear not! Roxanne has had no effect on me.” _He... was worried about Charlie,_ Vaggie realised suddenly. _He thought..._ She lowered her hands, letting the spear drop to her side and took a deep breath. Suddenly, she found that she wasn’t so frightened of him anymore, despite the fact that he was a man. 

All through September and October he had been in rut, and not once had he looked her way, not even taken the barest notice of her. Perhaps Maurice was not the only man that she could count as ‘safe’ in her head, even if she still didn’t entirely trust him. 

“Right,” she said flatly, in answer to _that_ ridiculous statement. “Well, if that’s the case, I’ll leave you alone.” She paused, noticing something that looked suspiciously like entrails drifting in one of the pots. “That had better be for you alone,” she growled, looking at it pointedly. Alastor said nothing, just smiled wider and she stalked out, thoroughly frustrated at him. 

But also, oddly touched. _He cares about Charlie._ _Actually_ _cares about her, about what might happen to her._ It was somewhat comforting that the infamous Radio Demon wasn’t out for her love’s happiness, but rather concerned that it survived. _I can’t stand him, but I’ll take him over the bitch_ _any day_ _,_ Vaggie decided firmly. Which meant she knew exactly what she had to do. 

* * *

The limousine was right on time to pick Roxanne up, and Vaggie watched in grateful delight as she begged Alastor to let her stay. The Radio Demon delicately plucked wandering hands from his person, tucked them back into her sides and held the door open for her as if he were a gentleman. Vaggie thought that hilarious and revelled silently in the sight of her leaving. Finally, she was ushered into the limo and driven away, back to whatever pit she had crawled out of. 

She couldn’t help but notice the extra bounce in Alastor’s step as they all wandered back into the Hotel. 

“I’m going to miss her,” Niffty sighed, the only one out of the staff emote such sentiment. Alastor hummed non-committedly while Husk drifted back towards the bar for a drink. Charlie disappeared off with their benefactor to discuss Hotel business and Vaggie drifted back towards Maurice, who was currently sat at the bar waiting for a drink. 

“I know what you did,” he said quietly as Husk poured both the demon, and himself, one. “She won’t forgive you.” 

“She’d have to go through Charlie first, and to do that she’d have to go through Alastor,” Vaggie pointed out, plopping down into a seat. For the first time in a while, the watchful eyes didn’t bother her as much as usual. “And even then, I can look after myself.” Maurice gave her a thin smile. 

“Yes,” he said quietly. “I’m sure you can.” He seemed oddly hesitant to take a drink for once. “Why is Alastor helping the Princess?” Vaggie blinked. Never before had Maurice asked a question, and especially never about Alastor. He had lent his rifle against the bar, doomed to carry the weapon around forever, a constant reminder of how he had died. 

“Because he’s a fucking sap,” Husk growled from his place behind the bar, taking a swig from a bottle. “But you didn’t hear that from me.” Maurice looked at him in some surprise, taking a careful sip from his drink. For once, he seemed to savour it rather than attempt to drown his sorrows and startled at the flavour. 

“Courvoisier?” Husk shrugged. 

“Al’s suggestion.” Maurice blinked again and stared down into the tumbler almost sadly. 

“I see.” He was quiet, sipping away at his drink contemplatively. Vaggie let him, enjoying the silence herself. She would have ordered a drink but refused on principle. Somebody had to stay sober at all times here, what with demons sneaking in their own contraband all the time. Angel Dust evntually joined them, ordering his own drink. 

“You know,” Vaggie started sometime later, almost curious herself despite what she had previously told Charlie, “Charlie told me about the time he helped you. A month ago?” Maurice paused in his drink. Vaggie wondered if this was a bad idea: she didn’t want to be the cause of another drinking episode. “She said she reminded you of Anna.” Angel looked up in interest. 

“Anna?” Maurice had gone stiff, face pale. Vaggie was always strongly reminded of the image of Marley’s ghost from her old copy of A Christmas Carol every time she saw him, what with the head bandages keeping his jaw together and ghostly pale complexion. Maurice was a rare demon who had kept most of his human form, the only thing differentiating him from a corpse being the sharp claws and alligator tail sweeping out from under his coat, matching the heavy New Orleans twang in his voice. “They look nothing alike.” 

“They don’t?” Vaggie knew she should stop digging. She didn’t really want to know what Alastor had done to this girl in life, or whether they might meet her one day. But she couldn’t help herself. Roxanne had screamed it at her during their ‘talk’, had compared _her_ to Anna and Charlie as some twisted version of ‘Anne-Marie’. Both names that Maurice had mentioned before. The demon in question shook his head, looking infinitely sad. 

“No. Anna had dark hair for a start, like her mother.” He paused, then took a long gulp of Courvoisier, gesturing for Husk to refill the glass. “She died at six months old. Such a little thing...” He knocked back the drink the moment it was poured and gestured for another. Husk made no motion to stop him, refilling the tumbler and leaving the bottle. Maurice ignored the glass and simply grabbed it by the neck, taking a long pull. He was reeling in his seat a little by the time he finished. “Couldn’t have reminded me of her. Didn’t know until later, you see, that it was Roxanne that drowned her...” Vaggie felt herself go cold. Angel suddenly looked sick. 

“Roxanne drowned a baby?” she parroted back. _I should not have started this conversation._

_“_ No, she drowned her _own_ baby,” Maurice said, taking another long drink from the bottle. His speech was starting to slur. “Was when it all really started. Should have seen after Jean-Claude, but no one knew he beat his children and Evelyn wasn’t strong enough after Anne-Marie was born to fend him off. But we all thought, little Anna, be a light in everyone’s lives. Even Evelyn seemed to get stronger just being in the presence of that precious girl.” Maurice paused to drink again and Vaggie tugged it from his fingers. He barely noticed, tears tracking their way down his cheeks. “I should’a done be’er ,” he slurred. “I should’a seen. But I didn’t an’ instead I jus ’... I jus ’...” Maurice hiccuped, overcome with _something_ and Vaggie wished she hadn’t started the conversation. “I killed him,” he whispered, as if imparting a secret. “I killed my own son.” 

As if summoned by the demon’s despair, Alastor was suddenly there. Vaggie wasn’t sure which was more terrifying: his silent appearance, or the lack of a smile. Even the stupid monocle was absent, tucked away in a pocket somewhere. 

“I believe it is time to put you to bed, Albert old friend,” Alastor said, almost sincerely. She couldn’t tell what the Radio Demon was thinking, whether he was angry, sad or even plotting. Strangely, she got the feeling he was mostly just tired. “It would appear you have had too much to drink.” 

For the first time since the Happy Hotel opened, Vaggie ordered a drink from Husk, retreating back to her and Charlie’s room to brood over it in peace. Roxanne was gone from the Hotel, and she had learnt something far more surprisingly about the Radio Demon once she had left. 

_He reminds her of Anna,_ she thought later, mellowed by the alcohol. _Alastor_ _was once a father._ She giggled at the image of him twirling around with a dark-haired version of Charlie, doting on her the way Lucifer never would. Absently, she even wondered which of them would be better, before deciding to promptly forget about the whole thing. Eventually, Charlie found her and tucked her into bed, smiling sadly. 

“Goodnight Vaggie,” she whispered, snuggling under the covers with her. 

“Mm, night night Charlie,” Vaggie slurred. 


End file.
